Page 1 of Hot as Hell (Royal Bastards MC, Montreal, Canada #2)

Hemlock leaned back in his chair, looking at his hand.

He really hated to take his brothers’ money.

They should know better to gamble with him.

Moving a few cards around, he gave nothing away in his expression.

Moving a card back to confuse the ones paying attention, he tossed out a comment he knew would shake things up.

“Do you think women with small feet have tight pussies?” Still, he kept his face one of boredom as his brothers choked on their drinks.

Vicious slung his foot up, setting his boot on the table. “I mean I’m a size fourteen.”

Truck actually spit his beer across the table laughing before falling out of his chair. Drunk ass.

Vicious dropped his foot as he laughed at Truck.

Hemlock remained stoic. “I mean women think men with big feet have big dicks.”

“What is wrong with you?” Teller asked, shaking his head at Hemlock as he discarded two cards and picked up two new ones and slid them into his hand.

Looking up, Hemlock shrugged. “What? It’s a legitimate question.”

“Next you’re gonna need a whole new hand.” Player added to the conversation as he sorted his hand.

“Now that you mention it.” Hemlock laid his hand down and smiled. “Rummy.”

The swearing and card throwing started immediately, making Hemlock laugh. He wanted to say sorry, but the pot would cover his car note and that he did not laugh about. Raking his winnings up he thanked his brothers for the donation.

“You’re such a lucky SOB.”

“Maybe at pool and cards, but he sucks with the women.” Truck said, getting up from the floor.

He saw the look on Hemlock’s face. The kid might be able to keep a mask up while playing cards, but it had slipped now, and it showed a hint of hurt.

“You’ll find the right one kid, and she won’t try to kill you. ”

“Maybe she’ll put me out of my misery.” Hemlock snickered, making light of what Truck had said while getting up to his feet. “I think you’re done, old man.”

“Who you calling old?” Truck shot back.

“You.” Hemlock deadpanned.

“I’ll show you old.”

“Maybe another time.” It was an ongoing banter between him and Truck.

It started years back when he first started working for food with the chapter.

He’d made a mistake referring to Truck as ‘Sir’ and the other brothers jumped on it.

The situation had gotten so bad that Hemlock had stopped coming around for a few weeks.

Truck and Vicious had come looking for him in the abandoned building where he lived.

They had sat down on the floor, which he kept swept and washed so it would feel like he wasn’t living in a building ready to fall down.

He never forgot how they sat down without judgement and asked him to come back to the clubhouse.

It had meant more to him than the food he worked for.

It made him feel wanted instead of tolerated.

“Where’s the bitches at?” Truck shouted, looking for someone to hit the sack with. Just as he said it, one of the club girls appeared in the doorway. Wynn sauntered over to him; she always did. “Babydoll, you up for some fun?”

“With you, Truck. Always.”

“You got him, Wynn?” Hemlock asked the petite blonde.

“Yeah. I got him.” She gave Hemlock a wink and let Truck drape an arm around her shoulder and headed him towards the private rooms the brothers used.

Watching as they walked across the room and disappeared down the hall, he wondered what Truck had meant earlier.

“You’ll find the right one kid, and she won’t try to kill you. ”

He knew a lot about Truck, but the man bore scars he never spoke about, and Hemlock never asked. Even as a kid. Probably because he never wanted to talk about his own. “You’ve got that look on your face again,” Razor said, breaking into his thoughts.

“Just thinking.”

“You’re thinking about what Truck said.” Razor didn’t need to ask. Sometimes, after a few drinks, the brothers let slip pieces of stories too raw to be shared sober.

No one knew the entire story, just bits and pieces that couldn’t be stitched together with a needle and thread.

“Don’t fret over it like some old woman.

He’ll be fine come tomorrow. Wynn knows how to put him to rights.

” Razor clapped Hemlock on the shoulder trying to get his attention off the dark hallway before his own demons took him down the same road Truck was on.

“Yeah. You’re right. Wynn’s got him, and he’ll be fine.” He’ll be fine.

Saying his good nights, Hemlock pulled his keys from his pocket and walked out into the cool spring night.

Glancing up, he looked at the stars shining bright against the stark black sky.

His nose caught the smell of freshly cut grass on the soft breeze and took him back to the time spent at Truck’s as a kid. Damn, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

Stepping up to his bike, he slid onto the seat and shoved the key in the ignition.

A few of the other brothers stepped outside laughing as they walked to their sleds.

Hemlock fired his up and shifted into first. Rolling out of the parking lot, he didn’t go screaming through the streets.

No, he rolled slowly through the streets until all he could hear was the sound of his motor and pipes rumbling against the quiet.

He came upon a building that barely looked like it was standing. Backing his bike into the alley between it and the building next to it, he shut the bike down. Pulling the key from the ignition, he locked his handlebars so the bike couldn’t be moved and eased off it.

Sticking to the shadows, he made his way into the building through a broken door.

Sliding his gun from his waistband, he made his way deeper into the building until he came to the steps leading to the second floor.

He didn’t need more than the moonlight to navigate.

He could manage blindfolded. Climbing the stairs, he kept a hand on the crumbling wall for support.

The stairs creaked under his weight, giving him pause.

When his foot hit the landing, he second guessed coming.

Something in Truck’s words had his own demons dancing in the recesses of his mind.

He just needed to remind himself where he had come from and how far.

The place had changed little. He was surprised there wasn’t anyone squatting in it.

Probably because it was falling down faster than any of the other abandoned buildings in the area.

He stopped at the back corner and stared at the small wooden boxes that still stood stacked against the wall.

Light from outside highlighted something in one box, drawing his attention.

Crouching down, he reached in with his free hand.

His fingers gripped the item. Pulling the item out, he saw it was a quarter.

Tears flooded in as his memories threatened to drown him.

The emotions hit him so fast he ended up on his ass, slumped over his knees and shaking uncontrollably.

“Damn it. I’m not that kid anymore,” he said as his body calmed down. Wiping at his face, he sniffed and shoved off the floor. He looked at the quarter and remembered how he’d hide money so he could get a candy bar or a bottle of water when he had nothing else.

He rubbed the coin between his fingers and was about to put it back when he heard a noise from the first floor. “Shit,” he mumbled and moved like a ghost across the floor back towards the stairs.

Using a support beam, he leaned behind it, obscuring his shape some. Flipping the safety off on the gun, he readied himself for whoever was coming.

The stairs creaked, letting him know they were not only on the steps, but exactly where they were. It unnerved him how he remembered every sound those rickety steps made.

“Hemlock,” He heard his name said no louder than a whisper.

“Vicious?” Hemlock clicked the safety back on the gun. “Why are you lurking around here? And why the fuck are you whispering? It’s not like you’re gonna wake anyone up.” Holstering the gun at his waist, Hemlock pulled his shirt over it.

“I saw you roll this way and wanted to check on you. What are you doing, kid?”

“Sometimes I need to remind myself I’m not that scared, hungry kid anymore.”

“Well, did you remind yourself?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good, because I’m starving, and you stole my money.”

“Won, not stole, and you could’ve left the table at any time.” Hemlock led Vicious back down the steps, instructing him where he should step.

“What’s the fun in that, kid?”

Hemlock chuckled at Vicious. “And that’s why your money’s in my wallet. Come on, I’ll treat you to breakfast down at the diner.”

“Cool. I’m not ready to drag my ass home. Sway and Lottie are having a girl’s night.”

“You scared to be alone, Veep?”

“Screw you. I just don’t wanna interrupt.”

“If you say so,” Hemlock said right before they stepped out of the building. Grabbing Vicious by the vest, he pulled him back behind the broken door as a cop rolled past with his light shining into the building. “Where’d you park?”

“Backed in next to you.”

“Shit, I didn’t hear you,” he mumbled as he watched the cop car slow down almost to a crawl.

Vicious couldn’t see shit from his vantage point. “Are they gone?”

“Fuck no,” Hemlock growled, pissed he’d come there. “How much heat you wearing?”

“Two pieces. You?”

“Same.” They couldn’t search them or their bikes without probable cause.

Thinking fast, Hemlock told Vicious to slowly give him his guns.

He was hidden enough by the wall and door he could stash the guns where no one would find them.

Lifting his foot onto the step closest to him, he placed all four guns inside and closed the wooden slate back into place.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. You walk out looking worried while I head out through the side window and come around the corner. ”

“And why are we going out instead of waiting?”

“Because they’ve spotted the bikes and will come in. If we appear first, we can act as if we’re looking for someone.”

“Like who?”

“We can give them one of the club girl’s name and say it’s our sister.” Hemlock leaned around enough to see the cop car stop and the light went straight down the alley.

“Time to move.”

Before they could move, the cop turned off the spotlight and hit the blue lights. They thought they were definitely humped until the cop took off with sirens blaring. Both men let out a breath.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Vicious said as he stepped around the door. He was done with abandon buildings.

Hemlock stepped out and handed him his guns. Vicious thanked him.

Maybe they needed a therapist to talk to. It seemed all of them had some kind of damage from their past that haunted them. Fuck, he was thankful that Sway knew how to handle his nightmares and his moods. Straddling his bike, Vicious waited on Hemlock to saddle up. “I might need a beer.”

“I might need one too,” Hemlock said and rolled out of the alley.